The Rising Sun: The Decline and Fall of the Japanese Empire, 1936-1945 (Modern Library War)

by Toland, John

  The next morning at nine-thirty, November 29, they met in the Imperial Court Room with Tojo, four of his Cabinet ministers and Privy Council President Hara. It was more of an informal discussion than a conference; there was no presiding officer and no decision was to be made. Baron Reijiro Wakatsuki, long an opponent of militarism, wanted to know more about the deadline for negotiations. “Does this mean there is no room for further talk?”

  Foreign Minister Togo said there was “no use going any further,” and Tojo felt there was “no hope for diplomatic dealings.” From now on diplomacy should solely be used “to facilitate operations.”

  “Are we to go to war upon abandoning negotiations?” insisted Wakatsuki.

  “Until today we have tried our best to reach a diplomatic solution,” Tojo said, “conducting ourselves with extreme prudence. But now we don’t have to be ashamed of mobilizing military force as a dignified and just action.”

  This did not satisfy the baron. Like Kido, he thought that gashin-shotan (enduring hard times) would be better for Japan than war.

  What if we resorted to gashin-shotan and still ended up in war? asked General Suzuki. “Then we wouldn’t have a chance in the world of winning it.”

  This prompted so many questions from Wakatsuki that Tojo impatiently interrupted. “Please trust what we say. We can occupy the sphere [Southeast Asia] and get enough oil. In three years we can gradually expand our sphere. As for aircraft oil, we can somehow manage; as for iron and steel, last year’s production was four million seven hundred and sixty thousand tons. We can increase this after three years.”

  “I don’t understand what I’ve heard so far,” Admiral Keisuke Okada interjected, taking up the questioning. What about the European war, for example?

  “We are going hand in hand with Italy and Germany, with whom we have a treaty,” Tojo replied. This was a strategic necessity that would enable Japan to move west and join up with Hitler’s forces. “We must crush England.” India would be an objective on the way. “Then we’ll carry out Near East joint operations in line with the German-Soviet war.”

  Okada didn’t think this grandiose plan would work, nor would expansion to Southeast Asia bring any increase in production. “Shipping of materials back home will get tight. After three years, I couldn’t even dream of production. What are you going to do about raw materials?”

  These were realistic fears but Tojo’s response was brusque. “The question of resources is precarious, but we can manage. All other things being equal, I think we can get along. Please trust us.”

  “Very doubtful,” Okada remarked. “You can go on building up armament plants, but how are you going to get hold of raw materials? It is not an easy task. We’ll soon run out of natural resources.”

  “We will go on a priority principle.”

  Okada turned his attack in a new direction and asked if the Navy was good enough to beat America.

  Tojo, who had still to get a positive answer from the Navy, said that Japan, by taking strategic points one by one, was preparing for a long war and would emerge victorious.

  “So far so good,” Okada said wryly. “But there are many xyz’s. With the U. S. building program as it is at present, don’t you think there is some danger?”

  “Everything is being taken into consideration,” said the exasperated Tojo and lost his composure. “Suppose we don’t fight. What would be the result? We just can’t bow to England and the United States. We’ve lost one hundred and sixty thousand lives so far in the China Incident. Now more than two million people are suffering. No more suffering! If we go on like this for a few years, we’ll lose our chance to fight. We’re already losing valuable time for operations!”

  But Okada was not to be cowed and became openly sarcastic. “We’re trying to come to an amicable settlement with America so we can redeem the blood being shed every moment! We’re building up the Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere just for this purpose. We import great quantities of rice from these countries, yet they are still poverty-stricken! We want to take care of these people. Labor and shipping is short, and to make them happy we must make sacrifices. Buying materials there by Army scrip is simple injustice.”

  Tojo ignored the mockery. “That all depends on how we appeal to the people’s feeling,” he said. “We must make good use of native organizations. At first the people, will find life difficult but very soon they will get on well.”

  It was past noon and the meeting was adjourned for lunch with the Emperor. Afterward everyone, including His Majesty and Kido, moved to the Imperial Chamber. The Emperor said, “We’re going through very difficult times, aren’t we?” It was a polite invitation to speak out.

  “We don’t have to worry about the spiritual strength of our people,” said Baron Wakatsuki, “but we must carefully study whether or not we have the material resources to carry out a long war. This morning we listened to the government explanations, but I’m still concerned.”

  Tojo reminded the Emperor that what had been said was based on the unanimous views of the Cabinet and the Supreme Command.

  “I’ve also been listening to the government explanations, and I too am not yet convinced,” said Okada.

  Neither was Prince Konoye. “I wonder if it is necessary to resort immediately to war even if the negotiations have broken down. I feel we might find a solution and still keep the status quo. In other words, to remain in the condition of gashin-shotan.”

  Nor was Admiral Mitsumasa Yonai. “I’m not able to express a concrete opinion, since I don’t have the background. But if you’ll forgive the slang, I’m afraid that by trying to avoid jiri-hin [slow poverty] we’ll end up in doka-hin [instant poverty].”

  Only two jushin generals, Nobuyuki Abe and Senjuro Hayashi, put their complete trust in the Tojo government. It appeared the session was over, but Wakatsuki wanted to bring up still another point. Tojo tried to stop him but the baron would not be silenced. “If our very existence is at stake, we should go to war even in the face of possible defeat and a scorching of our land, but to push a national policy for an ideal—for instance, the establishment of the Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere or the stabilization of East Asia—and to spend our national strength shackled by such ideals, that is indeed dangerous. And I’d like you all to think it over.”

  Stubbornly, Tojo reiterated that the whole matter had been discussed for hours on end at liaison conferences. They had explored in detail whether Japan could get the necessary supplies for a long war, and when and how the war, once started, could be brought to an end. The first aspect depended on the outcome of the initial stage of the conflict, and the second might be resolved through the mediation of the Soviet Union or the Vatican.

  In the face of almost universal disapproval Tojo had not wavered, and Kido—who had not uttered a word, but taken voluminous notes—realized the situation was “beyond control.” The influence of the Throne had failed. War was inevitable and the rise or fall of Japan was in the hands of the gods.

  It was already four o’clock but Tojo’s day was by no means over. He immediately convened the 74th Liaison Conference, and it was agreed to warn Hitler and Mussolini that the Japanese-American negotiations were certain to be broken off and that there was imminent danger of war.

  Foreign Minister Togo asked Navy Chief of Staff Nagano what the zero hour was. Finance Minister Kaya also had to know; once hostilities started, the stock market would drop precipitously. Only with the knowledge of the exact hour could he prevent a crash.

  “Well, then,” said the reluctant Nagano, “I’ll tell you. The zero hour is …”—he lowered his voice—“… December 8.” This was news even to General Tojo.‡ “There is still time, so you’d better come up with the kind of diplomacy that will help us win the war.”

  “I understand,” said Togo. “But can’t we tell our representatives [Kurusu and Nomura] that we’ve made up our minds? We’ve told the attachés [in Washington], haven’t we?”

  “We haven’t told t
he naval attaché,” Nagano answered.

  Togo wondered why Nagano was acting so suspiciously. “We can’t go on keeping our diplomats in the dark, can we?”

  Nagano finally had to answer. “We’re going to make a surprise attack,” he said. His deputy, Vice Admiral Seiichi Ito, explained that the Navy wanted the negotiations with America left hanging until hostilities had begun so the initial attack would be a complete surprise.

  Togo restrained himself. He was quite calm when he said that Japan would lose international good faith unless she made a proper notification of her intent. But his self-control gave way, and he began to stutter that the Navy plan was “entirely unpermissible, being in contravention of accepted procedure.” It was unthinkable for Japan “to commit irresponsible acts which would be hurtful to the national honor and prestige.”

  Someone remarked, “This is one occasion when the entire population of Japan will have to be like Kuranosuke Oishi.” Oishi was the leader of the forty-seven ronin who pretended to be a dissolute drunk.

  Togo said he had a previous engagement, suggested the meeting adjourn and shot back his chair. As he was rising, Ito asked a favor for the Navy; if prior notification had to be given, couldn’t it go to Ambassador Grew rather than to Hull?

  Togo answered with a brusque “No!” and shouldered his way out of the room. He went directly to his office and composed cables to Berlin and Rome which were dispatched late that night. The one to Ambassador Hiroshi Oshima revealed that the negotiations had failed.

  … IN THE FACE OF THIS, OUR EMPIRE FACES A GRAVE SITUATION AND MUST ACT WITH DETERMINATION. WILL YOUR EXCELLENCY, THEREFORE, IMMEDIATELY INTERVIEW CHANCELLOR HITLER AND FOREIGN MINISTER RIBBENTROP AND CONFIDENTIALLY COMMUNICATE TO THEM A SUMMARY OF THE DEVELOPMENTS. SAY TO THEM THAT LATELY ENGLAND AND THE UNITED STATES HAVE TAKEN A PROVOCATIVE ATTITUDE, BOTH OF THEM. SAY THAT THEY ARE PLANNING TO MOVE MILITARY FORCES INTO VARIOUS PLACES IN EAST ASIA AND THAT WE WILL INEVITABLY HAVE TO COUNTER BY ALSO MOVING TROOPS. SAY VERY SECRETLY TO THEM THAT THERE IS EXTREME DANGER THAT WAR MAY SUDDENLY BREAK OUT BETWEEN THE ANGLO-SAXON NATIONS AND JAPAN THROUGH SOME CLASH OF ARMS AND ADD THAT THE TIME OF THE BREAKING OUT OF THIS WAR MAY COME QUICKER THAN ANYONE DREAMS.

  Curiously, Togo did not order Oshima to ask for a German declaration of war in case Japan and America fought. He did summon Ambassador Ott. If worst came to worst, would Germany come to Japan’s assistance? Ott answered without hesitation: We will give you all possible help.

  The message to Oshima was intercepted by MAGIC and passed on to Roosevelt. Equally alarming was a United Press dispatch in the New York Times from Tokyo that Sunday morning, November 30: Prime Minister Tojo had just made a provocative speech declaring that Chiang Kai-shek was “dancing to the tune of American and British Communism because the United States and Britain desire to fish in troubled waters” and stir up Asians one against the other. “This is the stock in trade of Britain and the United States and therefore we must purge this sort of action with a vengeance.” Japan was determined to co-ordinate all Asians “so that a chorus of victory may go up in the camp of justice as speedily as possible,” and nothing be allowed “to interfere with this sphere because this sphere was decreed by Providence.”

  It was a speech that Tojo had never made, nor even read, let alone approved. Someone else had written it and it had been read at a meeting commemorating the first anniversary of the Sino-Japanese Basic Treaty. Its belligerency had been exaggerated by poor translation. The expression “we must purge this sort of action with a vengeance,” for example, should have read, “this sort of practice must be stopped.”

  There was also an item in the Times indicating that the President might curtail his Thanksgiving holiday at Warm Springs, Georgia; and late that night Kurusu again phoned Kumaichi Yamamoto in Tokyo. “The President is returning tomorrow!” he said. “He is hurrying home.”§

  “Is there any special significance to this?”

  “The newspapers have made much of the Premier’s speech, and it is having strong repercussions here.”

  “Is that so?” Yamamoto didn’t know what Kurusu was talking about.

  “Yes, it was a drastic statement he made. The newspapers carried large headlines over it; and the President seems to be returning because of it. There no doubt are other reasons, but this is the reason the newspapers are giving.” Kurusu was disturbed and showed it. “Unless greater caution is exercised in speeches by the Premier and others, it puts us in a very difficult position …”

  “We are being careful,”

  “We here are doing our best, but these reports are seized upon by the correspondents and the worst features enlarged upon. Please caution the Premier, the Foreign Minister, and others. Tell the Foreign Minister that we had expected to hear something different, some good word, but instead we get this [the “Tojo” speech].” Kurusu paused, then asked, “Are the Japanese-American negotiations to continue?”

  “Yes.”

  Irritated, Kurusu said, “You were very urgent about them before, weren’t you; but now you want them to stretch out.” He did not know that the negotiations were now to be used solely to mask the Pearl Harbor raid but he was getting suspicious and just recently had mused to Masuo Kato of the Domei News Agency, “Am I being used as a smoke screen?” He began to scold Yamamoto. “Both the Premier and the Foreign Minister will need to change the tone of their speeches! Do you understand? Please, all, use more discretion.”

  The Emperor’s official sanction was the last formal step before war. At five minutes after two on Monday, December 1, the imperial conference was opened in Room One East of the Palace in the usual formal style. Face stern and voice clipped, Prime Minister Tojo announced that Japan could not submit to American demands to quit China and nullify the Tripartite Pact, or her very existence would be in jeopardy. “Matters have reached the point where Japan must begin war with the United States, Great Britain and the Netherlands to preserve her empire.”

  After Tojo detailed the long, tedious history of the American-Japanese negotiations, Admiral Nagano rose and spiritedly declared that the officers and men of the Army and Navy were “burning with a desire to serve their Emperor and their country even at the cost of their lives.” This was followed by dissertations on problems ranging from public morale, emergency precautions and food supplies to the nation’s economy and finance.

  The Emperor, on his dais, sat passive and silent. Occasionally he nodded and seemed to be in an excellent mood. Sugiyama was “awed and deeply moved by His Majesty’s graceful humor,” but Finance Minister Kaya thought it was obvious he did not want war.

  Privy Council President Hara began to ask questions and the last were the most unsettling. “What will happen in case of air raids? … What will we do if a great fire should break out in Tokyo? Do you have a plan for this?”

  General Teiichi Suzuki said that there would be simple shelters for those who remained in the city. The reply was unsatisfactory, but even Hara found this no reason to make any more concessions to America. “The United States is acting in a conceited, stubborn and disrespectful manner,” he said. “If we gave in, we’d surrender in one stroke what we won in the Sino-Japanese and Russo-Japanese wars as well as the Manchurian Incident. We cannot do this.”

  Tojo himself summed up what they all felt. The Japanese Empire stood at the threshold of glory or collapse. “We tremble with awe in the presence of His Majesty.… If His Majesty decides on war, we will all do our best to repay our obligations to him by bringing the government and the military closer than ever together, resolving that a united nation will go on to victory, making every effort to achieve our national purposes and thereby putting at ease His Majesty’s mind.”

  There was nothing else to do but bow to the Emperor, who then, silent, without expression, left the room. Those remaining signed the documents proposing war, which were delivered to the Emperor. For some time he pondered the matter until he felt assured that the decision to initiate hostilities was not being
pushed through by a few aggressive military men. He told Kido that Hull’s demands were too humiliating. He had already defied tradition and training by insisting on a return to “blank paper,” and could do no more. He affixed his seal to the historic papers. The decision for war was formally sanctioned.ǁ

  In one week the simultaneous attacks would begin, and their success depended entirely on the element of surprise. But late that night a cable arrived from China with news that the secret was in jeopardy. It was from General Tsutomu Sakai, commander of the 23rd Army, which was poised near Canton to seize Hong Kong. A transport plane bound for Canton had crashed in Chinese-held territory, and one of its passengers was Major Tomozuki Sugisaka, a courier carrying the secret orders concerning the surprise attacks.

  There was alarm at Army General Staff headquarters. The Navy was summoned to an emergency meeting. Had Major Sugisaka had time to destroy the secret documents before the crash? Had the papers burned in the crash itself? Or were they already being rushed to Chiang Kai-shek, who would undoubtedly pass them on to Roosevelt? Should Operation Z be canceled?

  The next morning these apprehensions seemed to be confirmed: a reconnaissance plane had sighted the wreckage of a big Army transport in a Nationalist stronghold about fifty miles northeast of Canton. According to the pilot, “the scene of the crash was already surrounded by the Chinese who were swarming like ants.”

  Still in suspense, Nagano and Sugiyama drove to the Palace to inform the Emperor of the exact date of attack. They told him that December 8 would be December 7 in Hawaii, a day of rest with most of the warships at anchor. The moon would also be in the right phase for launching the attack, since it would shine “from midnight to about sunrise.” Nagano respectfully requested the Emperor to give his sanction to issuance of orders fixing December 8 as X-Day. His Majesty, without hesitation, approved.a